Untitled
by Sadriar
Summary: Set right after the end of the first game. No reference to the second game. No title yet; not sure where I'm going with this.


"A little early to be hitting the bottle, don't you think?"  
  
Dante Sparda lowered the bottle of spirits he'd raised to his lips, and, looking at the tall, leggy blonde standing in the doorway of the Devil Never Cry office, gave a derisive snort.   
  
"Cute," she said.  
  
"I try," he replied, and took a deep swig from the bottle.  
  
Heaving a deep sigh, Trish strolled into the office and tossed the sword that had been strapped to her back onto a nearby desk.  
  
Dante started, almost upsetting the contents of the bottle. "I'm sorry, I could have sworn for a moment that you just chucked an ancient weapon of the Underworld onto a desk. But I must be mistaken."  
  
"Indeed you are not." As Trish walked into the kitchenette, the sword on the desk slipped to the floor with a loud thud.  
  
"Damnit, Trish!" Dante started up from his chair to retrieve the fallen sword, but thought better of it. He settled back into his chair and took another long sip.  
  
Woman, you will be the death of me, he thought darkly.  
  
The woman in question strolled back into the main room with a bottle of spirits of her own. She perched herself on the edge of the desk, without a glance at the sword that lay on the ground.   
  
Dante sat back in the chair and contemplated the woman. The resemblance to his mother was uncanny. The tall, graceful figure, the thick golden hair that fell to her waist, and her eyes - those eyes! Of all her features, they were the ones that caused him the most trouble. He liked to think that he could see his mother in them, sometimes - when they weren't dulled by drink, as they were now.   
  
"What are you looking at?" Trish shot at him, breaking into his thoughts.  
  
Dante gave a short laugh. "Not much." With that, he polished off the rest of the bottle, threw the bottle on the ground, and belched loudly. "Beat that."  
  
"Charming," she murmered. "But I'm always up for a challenge. You of all people should know that." She examined the remaining contents in her bottle - more than half of the spirits remained. She tipped the bottle back and drained it, and slammed it down on the next with a satisfying thud.   
  
An amused smile played on Dante's lips. "I like a woman who can hold her liquor."  
  
"Then I suggest you pay a visit to your local bar."  
  
"No need. I've already got myself a wench."  
  
He barely managed to dodge the empty bottle that she threw at his head. "My, my... We're touchy today, aren't we?"  
  
"Well, you've certainly got a knack for bringing out the best in me. By the way, how familiar are you with the area near 4th and Market streets?"  
  
Dante, sensing a change in her tone, leaned forward in his chair. He was all business. "Not very. Why?"  
  
Trish's face grew serious. "Let's just say that I had an interesting experience there."  
  
"What? Why didn't you mention anything about this earlier?"   
  
"I didn't think it polite to come between you and your liquor," she retorted.   
  
Dante let the comment pass, and said, in a more patient voice, "Tell me what happened."  
  
"I'm not really sure how to explain it... I had already passed 4th and Market by when I suddenly felt this... compulsion... to turn around and go back. So I did. When I got there, a man was standing on the corner - just standing there. All the other people had taken shelter indoors because of the rain, but he just stood there, taking no notice of it. He wore a long, dark coat with a high collar that covered most of his face, so I can't tell you what he really looks like... I was still a fair distance away when he suddenly lifted his head and stared at me. His eyes..." Trish paused, a pained expression on her face.  
  
Dante could not help but feel a bit alarmed. Trish was a powerful demon, and not easily intimidated. Someone... or something... had obviously scared her.   
  
She continued. "His eyes - they were normal, human eyes - or at least, they looked like normal, human eyes... But they burned into me, Dante. A terrifying intensity and pain that I've not felt since I left the Master's service." Her troubled eyes met his. "What do you think it means?"  
  
"I don't know, Trish," he said. "Did anything else happen?"   
  
"No," she said. "A passerby bumped into him and our eye contact was broken. I left and came here as quickly as possible."   
  
Dante was silent for a minute. Trish, who was uncomfortable with both the silence and the disconcerting memories from the previous few hours, said, softly, "Do you think...?" She let the question hang in the air.  
  
"Let's not jump to conclusions," he said, looking up. "But let's not dismiss it, either. I think I should check it out."  
  
"You mean, you think we should check it out."  
  
"No. I go. You stay."  
  
"I'm sorry," said Trish, standing up from the desk and retrieving the fallen sword from the ground. "I could have sworn for a moment that you said you were going out to investigate by yourself. I must be mistaken." She strapped the sword back onto her back, and walked out of the front door, saying, "I'll meet you on the corner of 4th and Market later tonight at 10."  
  
"Woman, you will be the death of me," he muttered under his breath. 


End file.
